


my answer ( my way forward )

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Category: NU'EST, Wanna One (Band)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, baseball AU, laps lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 14:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: “you look nice today,” seongwoo says when they break away to catch a breath.butniceisn’t quite right.handsomefeels more like it.sexy.irresistible.





	my answer ( my way forward )

**Author's Note:**

> yes. the title is taken from bet bet.
> 
> i was [thirsty](https://twitter.com/ellina109/status/1124156040591728641?s=20). i have no excuse. [kang](https://twitter.com/minspolaris/status/1124149256669949954?s=21) [dongho](https://twitter.com/_eisquosamo__/status/1124154136180584448?s=20) has [ruined](https://twitter.com/RL3701TL/status/1124150042598592513?s=20) [my](https://twitter.com/brightest_hr/status/1124155309990207489?s=21) [life](https://twitter.com/RL3701TL/status/1124146339024007168?s=20).
> 
> so yeah extremely self indulgent.
> 
> based on a baseball au my love came up with. we'll see if it will ever be properly fleshed out.
> 
> unbeta’d madness with autocorrect ruining everything so uh. read at ur own peril.

“you look nice today,” seongwoo says when they break away to catch a breath. his eyes fall towards the sheen on dongho’s lips and the red dusting his cheeks. pride swells within him as he licks his lips, tasting dongho on it, knowing who has gifted dongho with such a debauched look. and he caresses the nape of dongho’s neck with his index finger.

but _nice_ isn’t quite right. _handsome_ feels more like it. _sexy_.

 _irresistible_.

it’s unfair really — the way dongho fills in a simple black t-shirt and a worn pair of jeans — leaving seongwoo’s mind running wild the entire evening with the ways he can take it apart. the way fabric stretches over muscle, leaving seongwoo to smooth out the creases. how the sleeve of the shirt isn’t long enough to cover up the ink on his arms. so much better than those team uniforms they wear. not to mention the way this black adds contrasts with that ugly bleached out hair that seongwoo can’t help but find attractive.

there’s a shy smile on dongho’s face. and if his hands weren’t on seongwoo’s waist maybe he would have done his age old habit of covering his face from embarrassment. 

the tinge on dongho’s ears give him away.

maybe it’s mean to push a childhood friend this hard. but these are no longer the awkward bumbling teenage years of trying to sequester your feelings in order to not lose your best friend.

seongwoo wants to entice a reaction out of dongho so he slides a knee between dongho’s thighs. he leans forward. lips millimeters from brushing against the shell of dongho’s ear as he says: “so good, in fact, i thought about riding you until you saw heaven. or you lying on your back and me fucking you until you forgot your name.”

it works.

something rapidly fills and presses against seongwoo’s thigh. seongwoo’s lips twist into a smug smirk.

he’s about to pull away to check on dongho’s expression when dongho silences him with his lips. it’s rough. almost like he’s trying to punch the words out of seongwoo. or bruise him until he can’t speak.

there’s something like a half chuckle, half sigh that slips from seongwoo’s lips.

but seongwoo never liked the idea of losing. never liked settling. it’s why his hands are calloused from all the practice to perfect a pithing technique he could call his own.

so his fingers thread through dongho’s undercut that’s growing out and firmly latches to the carefully gelled up hair. seongwoo pulls them apart, chest heaving from the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“so which one do you want?” seongwoo presses for an answer.

this is the part where dongho’s mouth grows dry, cock hard, and that indecisive _uhhhhhh_  a sign he wants both.

seongwoo’s grin grows cheshire.

“kiss me,” dongho says, gruffly; desperately trying to change the subject.

when he leans in for another kiss, seongwoo stops him with a finger pressed against eager lips.

“i have a better idea,” he says ( almost like a song ), “how about i kiss you elsewhere.” his fingers trails down dongho’s chest, past his waist, and unbutton his jeans. they slip past the waistband of dongho’s briefs and fist dongho’s cock. “i suck you off and we call it a day,” he says as his thumb collects and spreads dongho’s precum over the head of his cock, “unless you have a better idea.”

dongho swallows. hands seeking purchase in the wall he’s been backed against. seongwoo can detect the quiver in dongho’s voice when he replies: “you’re not going to take no for an answer are you?”

of course he would. doesn’t matter how hard seongwoo’s dick is. if dongho said no he would let go. if dongho said stop he would. because this was never about self gratification and always, always, about something else.

( that something that was harbored in his teens.

that same something that made him leave without a word in high school because he hated goodbyes and didn’t want to make his best friend sad.

and that same something he didn’t realize until he was in a stadium that rang so loud with noise it fell silent the moment this man stood in the center with both hands gripped around a bat. )

he sinks to his knees with a “what do you think?” as a reply. dongho runs his fingers through seongwoo’s hair ( the way seongwoo taught him to ) and holds it so tentatively. so much like dongho. seongwoo wonders what he’ll have to do to make dongho unleash the rougher side. the one that used to wrestle him to the ground and overestimate his own strength. the one that didn’t treat seongwoo like he was made out of porcelain.

seongwoo squirms a bit, making it painfully obvious the situation between his thighs as he frees dongho’s cock. and like he promised, he presses his lips against the head of dongho’s leaking cock, while holding dongho’s gaze with his own.

he parts his lips and allows dongho in, taking his time to adjust, running his tongue along the underside of dongho’s cock, humming, as he works the base with his hands. he knows it’s working when he sees the way dongho’s nail beds turn white from trying to hold onto the wall. the way his eyes flutter close as he tilts his head back, mouth falling open as sounds slip out. the neck veins, the flush of red, the way his thigh strain when he tries to hold himself from bucking into seongwoo’s mouth but fails anyway.

( seongwoo imagines what it would be like to be crushed between those thighs and decides to entertain that thought some other day. )

the hum turns into one of delight.

seongwoo makes short work of it.

there’s an incoherent garble followed by an apology and a staccato. seongwoo swallows it all down with a look of pride before he makes an obscene popping sound with his lips as he extricates himself from his position.

what he doesn’t expect is the thumb that catches his cheek in a loving caress. it’s calloused from all the gripping but gentle as it sweeps away the mess that he made. seongwoo can’t help when he finds himself almost nuzzling against the warmth.

when he looks up and meets dongho’s eyes, his heart stutters in his chest from the tender look.

dongho, despite being weak kneed, helps seongwoo stand. pulls him closer, tilts his head, and draws him in for a deep kiss.

it’s baffling. every time.

perhaps seongwoo is too used to the one night encounters of mutual exploitation for body warmth.

the voice in the back of his head piques up and is about to say those statements he’s heard all his life about _not deserving_ when it gets silenced by dongho sighing in content against his lips. he breaks away and turns seongwoo’s methods on him by having his lips ghost against seongwoo’s ear. voice lowered, wanton almost, as he says: “i want you in me.”

seongwoo’s cock twitches in reflex.

there’s a smug, smug smirk on dongho’s face when he breaks away. and seongwoo sort of gets where the nick name _white tiger_ comes from. he hates the way all his blood pools towards one particular spot in his body, turning it painful.

“well then,” seongwoo says, praying his voice doesn’t betray him ( it does ). “what are you waiting for?” seongwoo leans in and snarls: “strip and get on all fours, _baekho_.”

part of him regrets his choice of words — especially when dongho moves towards the bed and makes a spectacle out of removing his clothes. the other part just relishes in the way dongho tugs off the t-shirt. the muscles underneath a proof of gym attendance. the definitive lines that seongwoo had traced during their first time(s): the curvature of sinew, the divots, the borders of each tattoo. and seongwoo had wondered about the meaning behind them then. that twinge of jealousy upon finding the compass that signifies his found family. and that incessant voice in the back of his head that wonders if they would have gotten one if seongwoo had just stayed.

there’s no time for that today.

dongho unceremoniously discards his jeans and underwear in a pile on the floor — already half hard again. thigh muscles making themselves known as he turns around to crawl onto the bed.

it’s the curvature of his ass that brings seongwoo to close the distance. habits die hard and his hand itches to give it a routine slap or grope like the old days.

seongwoo stands and marvels.

dongho’s back is broad. the type he likes to wrap his arms around and bring close to his chest. the type that makes him feel safe and secure.

( the one he misses the most. )

it’s weird. seongwoo still recalls their younger days. a little scrawnier. much less defined. just pale skin and the tips of scapulae flexing as they changed into pe clothes.

and now he can almost imagine, as dongho flexes his back, those two crevices as where angel wings would reside.

dongho turns around looks at him, face slightly obscured by his own shoulder.

seongwoo adds another pile of clothes to the floor.

he pops open a tube of lube and then crawls on the bed and drapes himself over dongho. what’s the point if he can’t see dongho’s expression?

he pours a generous amount on his palm and slowly begin to work dongho open finger by finger. seongwoo observes the transition of emotions. the surprise that slowly slips into pleasure. the rocking of hips, trying to goad his fingers deeper, trying to get them to brush against the prostate. the moan that falls from lips. the sheen of sweat that builds across his forehead. the swollen lips that matches his own. the flush of red that seongwoo decides to add to as he gently takes one of dongho’s many earrings between his teeth and tugs.

the curl of power that sits low and tight when he sees dongho’s ears turn bright red, accompanied by a sound that has dongho diving to hide his face in the sheets. seongwoo hides his glee by kissing down dongho’s neck before settling on the clavicle. he knows the uniform will obscure it from prying eyes and times his marking with the rhythmic ministrations of his fingers.

“please...” dongho begs when his elbows give out. he looks from beneath the hair that has now fallen back into his face. eyelashes fanning his eyes and drawing seongwoo’s attention to those blown pupils.

“please what?” seongwoo asks, not because he’s an asshole ( okay, maybe he is a little bit ). he needs to know how far he can go. how far dongho is willing to go. and it doesn’t matter if they’ve tango-ed before or not.

“fuck me,” dongho says. nothing else tainting his voice. he’s past the point of caring.

seongwoo kisses the forming bruise and toys with the thought of doing just exactly that with how they are but decides against it.

because it’s dongho.

and because he’s coming to realize he’s surprisingly vanilla at times.

he wants to see dongho. absorb every detail as he comes _because_ of seongwoo.

“lie on your back,” seongwoo says with hands guiding dongho. a hand encouragingly running through dongho’s soft hair when dongho refuses to maintain eye contact.

he knows what it feels like. exposed. vulnerable. he’s about to say _we don’t have to do this, you know?_ when dongho catches the hand. he slides his fingers into the crevices of seongwoo’s, intertwining them and raises it to his lips to press a kiss into it.

how pathetic did seongwoo’s expression have to be for dongho to reassure him like this?

it is a cheap shot to confess in such a state so he doesn’t. he shoves it back down and focuses on lining himself up. the accidental slide of the head of his cock against dongho’s inner thigh sends a shiver down his spine. but he relishes in the mess he makes: pre cum smeared over pale thighs.

( he wonders if there are better ways to leave imprints behind.

he realizes there is something wrong about such possessiveness.

age old guilt stares at him in the face.

he tries to move on by moving. )

there’s a crinkle of wrapper. and the rolling of rubber before seongwoo enters inch by filthy inch. slow. methodical. letting dongho get used to it before sliding in a bit more.

he feels that interlocked hand lose feeling from how hard it’s being gripped. dongho’s other hand grasping the sheets. toes curled. back arched. legs crossed to bring seongwoo closer.

when he bottoms out, he kisses dongho to distract himself from the heat of it all. from how tight dongho clenches. from how much he just wants to roughen dongho up.

maybe next time. not when it’s dongho’s first.

seongwoo thinks about how they used to be, when he slides out. thinks about the way he built his life around dongho when they were younger. he slides in. how dongho has changed in some ways ( in ) and stayed the same in others ( out ).

after all, change is bound to happen. even though he couldn’t witness it, he likes the man dongho has grown into. at his core it’s still the same best friend seongwoo fell in love with all those years ago.

and now it’s the same but different.

( dongho doesn’t belong to anyone. never has. never will.

but dongho chooses to be here. to lie with and under you — and that makes all the difference in the world. )

dongho tips over the edge first. the shudder and contraction pulls seongwoo with him like how the moon dictates the shore line.

when seongwoo comes, he’s swept away by a tidal wave. turmoil of emotions washed out until only sand is left behind. nothing but affection left in its wake.

seongwoo extricates himself from dongho and fights the urge to collapse. the rest of the night passes in a haze of trying to clean himself and dongho off. only to end in a weak wrestle and seongwoo dozing off in dongho’s arms.

 

 

seongwoo wakes to the sun. their dumbasses had forgot to close the curtain completely shut in their haste. seongwoo groans and flips around, trying to avoid the harsh rays of day, only to find dongho’s eyes fluttering open.

his eyes are beautiful. amber perhaps. wait, no. hazel? not quite. mead maybe. some shade of it. honey.

it glistens in the light. such clarity. accompanied by a smile filled with such honesty seongwoo becomes shy and burrows his face into the blankets. he pulls them up so they cover up to his eyebrows and tries to will his heart to normal.

he feels like a bride after her first night. how ridiculous.

there’s a soft chuckle somewhere above him. and then a soft press of lips against his forehead.

that brings him out from under with a scowl to mask his embarrassment.

“did you sleep well?” dongho asks, seemingly oblivious.

seongwoo nods. he has half the mind to slip back under the blankets or to turn around to face the sun because it’s a lot less blinding than the smile directed at him. but he doesn’t know when the next time is that he can afford to be here like this. not with who they are outside of these four walls.

so he cups dongho’s face. smooths his thumbs across both sides of dongho’s cheeks. and leans in for a kiss that dongho meets him half way.

something unfurls in his chest. a lot stronger than all those years before. it’s overwhelming. seongwoo knows it’ll hurt a bit but this time he’ll be ready.

( because, if anything, now he knows the only one he’s willing to go through all this for is that man named kang dongho. )

it’s lazy. sloppy. kind of like this morning.

seongwoo urges dongho to turn around. sidles up close, wraps an arm around dongho’s waist, and presses his chest against dongho’s back.

hands find each other. intertwine like a promise. seongwoo holds on.

tomorrow he’ll have to return to his life. next week they’ll see each other again under a different context. different uniforms. different teams.

but dongho will always be the one able to hit his pitches. and always just a phone call away.

for now, they are here and it is all that matters.

seongwoo presses a kiss against dongho’s shoulder. it earns him a heart felt chuckle and a hand that ruffles his hair like the old days ( and the new ones ahead ).

**Author's Note:**

> my writing has not come back from war so there's that ( and this i guess ).
> 
> i still don’t know how to write a pwp.
> 
> thanks for reading this mess and making it to the end.


End file.
